More or Less a Marchioness

by Anna Bradley

  But now she’d jilted him, she’d forced herself on his notice.

  One didn’t jilt the Marquess of Huntington on a whim. Her future marriage prospects, her sisters’ prospects—they were all in question now, and that was to say nothing of her grandmother’s disappointed hopes. All of London would think her capricious to indulge in a courtship and then decline to follow through with the marriage. There was no question her reputation would suffer for it.

  It took courage to jilt him, especially for the reasons she’d given.

  While he’d been congratulating himself for choosing a bride who’d never give him a moment’s worry, Miss Somerset had been hiding a core of steel behind that agreeable smile.

  A strange sensation swept over Finn as he studied her. He felt as if he’d read a page in a book, then realized only after he’d slammed it shut he hadn’t understood a word of it.

  Such a lovely face she had, with those long, feathery lashes and her soft, pale pink lips. Such a delicate beauty, the perfect English rose, but now he looked at her—really looked at her—he could see a hint of stubbornness in the curve of her lower lip, and determination in the line of her jaw that matched the hint of willfulness in her eyes.

  He rose to his feet. “I regret it came to this, Miss Somerset. I beg your pardon if I’ve caused you any pain.”

  She rose as well, and surprised him by taking his hands. “As do I, Lord Huntington.”

  He opened his mouth to say something more, but then closed it again, because there was nothing more to say. He bowed, and left Lady Chase’s drawing room without looking back.

  But as Finn alighted on the street in front of the house, he felt as if he’d lost something— as if he’d turned out his pockets to find them empty of the treasure he’d hidden there—a treasure he wanted with an inexplicable yearning only now, after he’d lost it.

  Chapter Five

  A week later, in early August

  “You’re wasting your time, Huntington. Miss Somerset isn’t here. She hasn’t set foot on the promenade for the past week.”

  Finn had been scrutinizing the scattered groups of fashionably-dressed ladies prancing down Rotten Row, but at Lord Derrick’s amused tone, he jerked his gaze straight ahead again. Damn it, how many fair-haired ladies in blue riding habits were there in London? There seemed to be dozens of them on the promenade this afternoon, yet not a single one of them was her.

  He slid his watch from his waistcoat pocket, a rough sigh in his throat as he flipped open the lid and noted the time. Seven o’clock. He’d been here for three hours. There’d been no sign of her, and the crowd grew thinner by the moment as the ton abandoned the promenade to dress for their evening entertainments.

  She wasn’t coming.

  Lord Derrick gave his reins an impatient flick. “For God’s sake, this has been going on for days. If you want to see Miss Somerset, then why not just call on her? There’s no use in skulking around the promenade, glowering at every lady who bears the faintest resemblance to her. Look at poor Miss Blanton, scampering off down the Row. You’ve frightened her to death with that terrifying glower of yours.”

  Finn grunted. If Miss Blanton didn’t wish to be glowered at, she shouldn’t have worn a blue riding habit. “I have called on Miss Somerset, any number of times. She refuses to see me.”

  Lord Derrick drew his horse to a halt in the middle of the promenade, ignoring the protests of the riders behind them. “Why should she refuse to see you? I believe it’s customary for a lady to accept calls from her betrothed. Bloody hell, Huntington. What have you done this time?”

  Finn slid his friend a glance from the corner of his eye and heaved a silent sigh. He’d hoped to have this whole snarled mess resolved before he had to say a word to Derrick about it, but Miss Somerset had become a knot he couldn’t untangle on his own. He was going to need Derrick’s help to put things right, and even then, it wasn’t going to be easy. “We’re not betrothed. Not anymore. She jilted me.”

  Lord Derrick jerked upright in the saddle. “The devil you say.”

  His horse whinnied in protest at the sudden tug on the reins as Derrick made a sharp turn off the promenade and rode north toward the open ground near the Serpentine. Finn followed, bracing himself for the blistering lecture he deserved as he brought his horse alongside Derrick’s.

  Lord Derrick didn’t waste any time. “Why, Huntington, would Miss Somerset jilt you? Whatever you did, it must be awful indeed for her to sacrifice the chance to become the Marchioness of Huntington.”

  Finn stared at the river, watching as the last rays of the setting sun caught at the gentle ripples on the glassy surface. He’d done a number of awful things, any of which might have justified her jilting him, but none of them were the reason she’d actually done so.

  No, she’d jilted him over a kiss, or more accurately, the lack of one. If he hadn’t seen her face when she said it he would have suspected her of lying, but there hadn’t been a trace of subterfuge in her clear blue eyes.

  A kiss. She’d jilted him over a kiss.

  “It’s that bloody wager, isn’t it?” Derrick’s mouth pinched into the same thin line it always did whenever the wager came up. “She found out about it, and she’s jilted you over it. I warned you, Huntington, but you insisted on acting the fool, and now the wager has turned into a curse on the three of you. Here’s Harley, caught cheating at cards and forced to flee to the Continent to save his neck. He won’t have Lady Honora after all, any more than you’ll have Miss Somerset, and now two lovely, innocent ladies are caught up in the scandals.”

  “You forgot Lord Wrexley.” Finn spat the name as if he couldn’t get it out of his mouth quickly enough. “He hasn’t appeared to suffer any ill effects from that wager.”

  “Wrexley lost. He’s exempt from the curse.”

  “There’s no curse, Derrick, though I’ll grant you it’s unsettling how quickly a win became a loss once we left the gaming tables.”

  “Or a loss became a win. Think of it, Huntington. Now Wrexley has his choice of both Lady Honora and Miss Somerset, though I suppose his cousin doesn’t want him.”

  “He doesn’t want her, either. He wants Miss Somerset.” A hard ball of anger lodged in Finn’s throat at the thought. He wasn’t pleased with her for jilting him, but that didn’t mean she should be saddled with a rogue like Wrexley for the rest of her life. No woman deserved such a fate.

  Lord Derrick shrugged. “Wrexley knew going into the wager he could lose her just as easily as win her.”

  Finn thought of Wrexley’s careless smile when he lost the wager. “Come, Derrick. You know Wrexley better than that. He knew if he won her I’d abide by the terms of the wager and step aside, but he isn’t an honorable gentleman. As soon as the cards hit the table he was determined to have her, whether he won or lost.”

  “Maybe he loves her.” But even as he said it, Derrick looked doubtful. He knew Lord Wrexley almost as well as Finn did.

  “Wrexley doesn’t love anyone but himself. He does want her, though, even if only to keep me from having her, and he wants her badly enough to sink to alarming depths to get her. That trick at Lady Fairchild’s, with Lady Beaumont…”

  Understanding dawned on Derrick’s face. “Of course! He was the one who sneaked Lady Beaumont in. I can’t imagine why we didn’t think of it at once. He’s been to that house dozens of times, and knows every hidden alcove and nook in the garden.”

  “Yes, and you and I both know he didn’t do it on a whim. Either he intended for Lady Beaumont to find Miss Somerset and whisper secrets in her ear, or else he thought he could lure Miss Somerset off to the gardens alone with him while I was occupied with Lady Beaumont.”

  Lord Derrick looked appalled. “Dear God. You don’t think he intended to compromise her, do you?”

  Finn had no idea whether Wrexley would go as far as to hurt an innocent lady. He onl
y knew he didn’t trust him not to. “Whatever his intentions, they weren’t honorable. He doesn’t love her, Derrick. If he did, he’d never manipulate her like that, or involve her in such a devious scheme.”

  “Why, that bloody scoundrel.”

  Finn nodded, his mouth tight. “He’s selfish, down to his very soul. Selfish, debauched, and reckless.”

  Derrick ran a rough hand through his hair. “Christ, Huntington. I can’t understand how there’s never a whisper of gossip about him, given what an utter villain he is.”

  “Oh, there are whispers. One just needs to know where to go to hear them. After that debacle at Lady Fairchild’s, I paid Lord Greyson a visit.”

  “Greyson? Good lord, is he still alive?”

  “Alive, and as sharp as ever. He doesn’t leave his house now, but he’s as cheerful and entertaining as always, and all his friends still come to him with the choicest bits of gossip. He was a dear friend of my father’s, and happy to receive me.”

  “You asked him about Wrexley.”

  “I hinted, yes. Delicately, of course. We’re both aware Wrexley’s not as spotless as he appears, but he does a bloody good job of hiding it from his aunt and cousin, and from most of London. Still, Greyson had one or two tales about him.”

  Lord Derrick shot him a wary look. “What is it, then? Gaming? Mistresses?”

  “Both. Neither would distinguish him from any other nobleman, of course, except the degree to which he indulges his vices, particularly the gaming. Wrexley is so near ruin he’ll be following Harley to the Continent if he doesn’t pay his debts of honor soon.”

  “He wants Miss Somerset’s money, then?”

  “That’s part of it. She has a good deal of it, thanks to Lady Chase, but we both know the real reason her wants her, Derrick. It has far more to do with me than it does with Miss Somerset.”

  Lord Derrick stared out at the Serpentine for a moment, thinking, then turned back to Finn. “Do you suppose she has a preference for him?”

  Finn frowned. If she did have a preference for Wrexley, he hadn’t noticed it, but he’d missed a great deal when it came to Miss Somerset. “No, but Wrexley is Lady Honora’s cousin, and Miss Somerset and Lady Honora are friends. She’s likely spent more time with him than she has with any other gentleman, and may feel more comfortable with him for that reason. I do think she trusts him.”

  “It’s not uncommon for an impoverished nobleman to marry an heiress for her fortune, Huntington. You’ll have to do better than that, because aside from Greyson’s idle gossip, Wrexley hasn’t done a thing to justify interfering if he does decide to court Miss Somerset.”

  Finn let out a short, hard laugh. “Justify it? I don’t intend to justify a damn thing to him, Derrick. He’s not going to have her.”

  Lord Derrick’s head jerked back in surprise. “Indeed? That’s a black scowl, Huntington. A bit possessive of your former betrothed, are you?”

  Finn’s scowl deepened. “Not possessive, no, but I can’t stand by and leave Miss Somerset to fall into whatever trap Wrexley has planned for her. You know what he is. The lady…well, she deserves better than that. Better than him.”

  Lord Derrick gave a derisive snort. “She deserves better than the whole lot of you, but I don’t see how you have a damn thing to say about who she marries, now she’s jilted you. You no longer have any claim on the lady. She may marry who she wishes.”

  “No, she may not. She’s marrying me.”

  Lord Derrick’s eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. “Does she know that?”

  “No, not yet, but she hasn’t any other…that is, I can’t just stand by and let her…she jilted me, yes, and she made her choice, and while I can’t be expected to…I could leave her to face the consequences, of course, but even if I didn’t feel some concern, I wouldn’t just—”

  “Huntington.” That was all Derrick said, but it was enough.

  Finn met his friend’s steady gaze, and blew out a long breath. “This is my fault, Derrick. All of it.”

  Finn didn’t even want to see Miss Somerset again, much less marry her. He wanted to wait for the ton to return to London for the little season, so he could begin the search for his marchioness anew, and find a lady who was everything he’d thought Miss Somerset was. A quiet, modest lady, one who didn’t stir anything dangerous in him, or tempt him to let the tight control he held over himself unravel.

  But ever since she’d jilted him, she’d squirmed her way under his skin, and no matter what he did to dislodge her, she clung to him like a burr hidden under a saddle. She’d been prickling and poking at him for a week now. Once he married her he wouldn’t have a moment’s peace, but he couldn’t stand by and do nothing while she tumbled headlong into Wrexley’s arms.

  “Why is any of this your fault? Because of the wager?” Instead of delivering his usual indignant lecture on that subject, Lord Derrick waited for Finn to speak.

  “Yes.” Bitter shame flooded Finn’s chest, and he couldn’t meet Derrick’s eyes. “No doubt Wrexley admired Miss Somerset even before the wager, but once those cards hit the table, this became less about her than the pleasure he’ll get from taking her from me. He’ll do anything to have her now.”

  “You refer to that business with Wrexley and your former betrothed, Miss Hughes?” Lord Derrick shook his head. “That was five years ago, Huntington. Surely even a man as vindictive as Wrexley wouldn’t hold a grudge for so long.”

  Finn tensed, just as he always did when anyone mentioned Diana Hughes. “He would, and he does. Wrexley may have seduced my betrothed, Derrick, but he’s never acknowledged his villainy. The way he sees it, I stole his heiress. He went to all the fuss and bother of ruining Miss Hughes, and then I snatched her away before he could marry her and secure her fortune. He wants revenge on me, and after five long years he sees his chance to get it. What could be a more fitting punishment than taking Miss Somerset from me? And she’s more vulnerable to him than ever, now she’s jilted me.”

  Once the gossips found out she’d sent him on his way, the ton’s judgment would fall heavily on her shoulders. There was every chance she’d never receive another offer of marriage. He might go on to choose another bride, and to get just the kind of compliant lady he’d always intended to have as his wife, but Miss Somerset would be left to languish for the unpardonable sin of encouraging and then jilting a marquess.

  Especially one with his spotless reputation, undeserved as it might be.

  “Wrexley will pounce on her, like any predator.” Lord Derrick’s voice was faint. “He’s charming, handsome. He’ll convince Miss Somerset he loves her, and Lady Chase will approve the match, because she’ll have no other choice now her granddaughter’s reputation has been stained.”

  “Another suitor is the only way for her to escape a dreary fate, and Wrexley intends to be that suitor. As I said before, it’s a clever plan. It may not have gone just as he intended, but he’s accomplished his goal. Miss Somerset’s jilted me, and the way is clear for him to pursue her.”

  “Once he’s secured her, he’ll…Jesus, Huntington. Who knows what he’ll do? Steal her fortune, yes, but a man who’d risk a lady’s reputation and potentially her happiness by destroying her betrothal? A man that selfish, that reckless—”

  “He won’t secure her, Derrick.”

  That despicable wager—that was his failure, not Miss Somerset’s. Finn would do what he must to see she wasn’t the one who suffered for it, and in this case, doing what he must meant making a trip to Hampshire.

  “Wrexley’s going to Lady Hadley’s house party. He’s escorting his cousin, Lady Honora, and Miss Somerset and her sister. Once they’re there, he won’t waste any time. He’ll try and have the thing settled before they even leave Hampshire, no matter what it takes.”

  Derrick blinked at him. “Lady Hadley’s house party?”

  “Don’t look so sh
ocked, Derrick. You received an invitation, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I received an invitation. What shocks me, Huntington, is you did.”

  “Oh? I don’t see why it should.” Finn didn’t mention he’d been so shocked himself he’d accidentally dropped the paper into the fire. He’d burnt his fingers retrieving it, but it was worth a singeing, because he’d seen at once the invitation could only mean one thing.

  Miss Somerset was keeping secrets from her family.

  “Lady Hadley,” Derrick said. “That is, the Marchioness of Hadley, sister-in-law to Lady Carlisle, who also happens to be Miss Somerset’s sister? That Lady Hadley?”

  “Do you know of another Lady Hadley?”

  “No, but why the devil would Lady Hadley invite you, Miss Somerset’s former betrothed, to her house party?”

  Several mounted gentlemen were approaching them from the east end of the Serpentine, so Finn drew his horse closer to Derrick’s and kept his voice low. “Because Miss Somerset and I are betrothed—at least, as far as Lady Hadley knows, we are.”

  Finn paused to let that sink in.

  Derrick gaped at him for a moment, but then he burst into an unexpected shout of laughter so loud the riders ambling by turned to stare at him.

  Finn waited with ill-concealed impatience until Derrick’s burst of hilarity subsided. “You find it amusing Miss Somerset hasn’t yet told her family she jilted me?”

  Derrick was wiping his eyes on his coat. “No, but I do find it amusing a lady you chose for her steadiness has turned out to be about as predictable as a hurricane.” Lord Derrick laughed at Finn’s sour expression. “Oh, come now, Huntington. You must admit the irony is irresistible.”

  Finn didn’t find it the least irresistible. He found Miss Somerset’s actions to be imprudent and deceitful, both of which were damn unsettling qualities in a wife. “It’s been a week, Derrick. What can she hope to accomplish by keeping the truth from her grandmother? It’s bad enough she’s jilted a marquess, but she’s made the situation worse by hiding it. What if Lady Chase finds out before Miss Somerset tells her? She’ll be furious.”